The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Churcher

  Ketty reaches my table, and gestures for me to stand up. She sorts through the sections on the table, and begins to clip and strap my armour into place. She’s rough, and she keeps snapping at me if I’m not standing still, or I don’t hold pieces for her in just the right way. I do my best to do what she wants, but it feels as if I’m getting everything wrong. She pushes the last section into place, clips the canister to my waist, and connects the pipe to the torso. The assembled armour is comfortable, and lightweight, but it restricts my movements. It’s going to take time to get used to wearing it.

  Ketty hands me the helmet, and I put it on. She grabs it and twists it into place, pushing down hard against my shoulders. There’s a click, and everything goes quiet. All the sounds in the room are muffled, and I’m locked away inside my armour. She gestures to me to remove it, and I struggle with the twisting action. She grabs it again, twists it, and pulls it off my head.

  “Again, Recruit! Keep your finger on the catches on each side,” she says, showing me the points on the edge of the helmet that activate the clips.

  I take the helmet, push the clips, and twist it into place. A click, and the noise from the room becomes a background murmur. Ketty nods, pulls my visor up, and points to the recruits behind me.

  “Line up,” she says to me, and then louder: “Line up, recruits! We’re heading back outside.”

  The male recruits are lining up on the training field as we jog out of the dorm. Standing to attention, the lines of figures in armour look impressive, and dangerous. These are the front-line dolls, the deterrents, and we look good. Armour in shades of grey and black, helmets with tinted visors. With the visors down, there would be no part of our skin on show – we could be robots, or proper soldiers. We’ve been designed for respect.

  Commander Bracken strolls along the lines, inspecting us. He closes a clip here, adjusts a section of armour there, but mostly he nods at each recruit as he passes.

  “Very good, recruits! You look the part. Now, let’s see what you can do in the armour. Jackson!”

  Jackson steps forward, still dressed in fatigues.

  “Recruits!” he shouts. “Visors down, helmets off!”

  We obey, clutching clumsily at our helmet catches, and stand, holding our helmets in front of us.

  “Helmets on the floor.” As I put my helmet down, I notice that my name is printed across the back. I’ll be easy to identify wherever I am.

  “Line up for the morning run. Today we’re running in armour. Get used to it, and get going!”

  We follow Ketty and the other Senior Recruits towards the gate, jogging awkwardly while we get used to the range of movement that our armour allows.

  Today’s run is shorter. We’re still being shown off along the main road, but we don’t run as far, and the cut back through the woods to the camp is not our usual route. I’m running the last section with Dan, talking when we can, and helping each other with the restrictions of the armour. We’re coming up to the fence. We’d usually turn right, and run all the way round the training field to the gate, but today the leaders turn left, and we run past the staff dorm, and the picnic tables where I sit with Charlie. As we run, I notice a section where the trees continue past the fence into the camp, and the path we’re running on pushes deeper into the woods. It’s hard to see the fence from the path, but I’m sure I notice a gap between the fence and the ground. It’s small, but the metal mesh curls up, away from the grass. I wonder whether a person could crawl underneath.

  At the gate, we run past the guards and back to the training field. Commander Bracken is waiting, with three crates of guns. Our helmets have been removed from the field.

  “Welcome back, recruits! Take a gun, and line up.” We do as he says, and stand in lines, guns in patrol holds, as we’ve been taught. “Today’s weapons session will teach you how your gun, and your armour, work together. Jackson!”

  Jackson steps forward again, and Commander Bracken steps back to observe.

  “Recruits! Space yourselves out, and pair up.” We move apart, and I look round for Dan. Before I can find him, Saunders appears at my elbow.

  “Hi, Bex! Want to pair up?”

  I glance around, but Dan is out of sight. Everyone else is finding partners to work with. I shrug. “Sure.”

  We walk a short distance away from the nearest recruits, and wait for instructions from Jackson.

  “How fantastic is this armour?” Saunders whispers. “It’s so space-age! We look badass!”

  I have to agree – even Saunders looks dangerous, and together we look as if we could contain a riot or lead a charge on a battlefield. I feel a surge of excitement, and I have to remind myself that that’s not what we’re here to do.

  Jackson calls our attention back, and we turn to watch his demonstration.

  The clips on the gun line up with the clips on the back of our armour. Left- or right-handed, it doesn’t matter – there are clips on both sides of the gun, and in both directions across our armour. Jackson demonstrates on one of the recruits, and then tours the field, watching us practice in our pairs.

  It takes a few attempts for me to get the hang of using the clips. There are magnets in the gun and the suit that help to set the position before the clips engage, but it is difficult to find the right angle as I reach over my shoulder and line up the gun. Saunders helps by guiding my gun for my first attempts, and after a while I can clip it in, almost every time. Unclipping it is easier, but still takes practice.

  But Saunders is struggling. I try clipping the gun into place for him while he holds the stock, and letting him swing the gun round to find the magnets, but he really can’t get it right. As his frustration mounts, his attempts become less and less accurate. He’s starting to panic, and so am I.

  “How do you do it, Bex? I just can’t feel it. I can’t feel how it’s meant to be.”

  I make myself stay calm. I don’t want him to know how badly he’s doing.

  “Try again. Just keep trying.”

  “But this is supposed to be easy!”

  Jackson arrives, and I demonstrate my technique. Saunders looks terrified.

  “Take a deep breath,” I say, and I’m about to talk him through it again when Jackson mimes zipping his mouth and glares at me.

  “That’s enough, recruit. Saunders is going to show me what he can do. Saunders?”

  And he tries. He really tries, but he can’t get the action right. Jackson rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and taps his fingers impatiently against his elbow.

  Across the field, Commander Bracken blows a whistle, and calls us back. Saunders puts his gun into a patrol hold, and starts to run back, but Jackson puts out a hand and stops him.

  “Again, Saunders.”

  I wait, willing him to get it right.

  “Ellman, you’re done. Get back in line.”

  I want to protest, but Jackson waves me away. I mouth a “sorry” to Saunders over Jackson’s shoulder, and head back to the group. There’s nothing else I can do.

  We hand our guns to Commander Bracken, and he sends us back to the Senior Dorm to get changed. On the tables, with our fatigues, we find crates with our names on, our helmets already inside. We each have a cloth, a sponge, and a bowl of water. As I unclip my armour, I wipe each piece clean, polish it with the cloth, and place it into the crate. I fold up my thermal base layers, and put them into the crate as well, then get dressed in my fatigues.

  Ketty stands at the door, watching us. When we’re all dressed, she sends us back to our own dorm, with instructions to stow the crates under our beds, and report to the dining room for lunch.

  As we queue for sandwiches and soup, I glance outside at the training field. Saunders is still there, with Jackson, trying and failing to clip his gun to his back.

  *****

  Saunders joins us as we line up for the assault course. He’s missed lunch, but he looks happy. Jackson ruffles his hair as he sends him over, as if he’s a puppy or a kitten, and I can’t help fee
ling offended at the patronising gesture.

  “Did you manage it?” I ask him under my breath, as we wait for a Senior Recruit to remind us of the personal best times we’re aiming to beat.

  He nods enthusiastically. “I did! And Jackson made me show him again and again, so I won’t forget.”

  I’m about to congratulate him when he turns away, and I notice Amy stepping quietly through the group to stand beside him. He glances at her, and they share a smile. Out of sight of the Senior Recruits, she slips her hand into his, behind his back. He interlaces his fingers with hers, and they both stand facing forward, hiding the gesture, but unable to hide the smiles on their lips.

  I step back and fall into line. I’m surprised, and I’m trying to listen to the Senior Recruit, but my thoughts are straying. I’d assumed that Amy and Jake were together, but then I realise how often people have made the same mistake about me and Dan. I can’t help smiling myself, seeing Saunders happy.

  *****

  Studying with Margie and Dan was an introduction to arguing about everything, but never falling out over anything. History was our favourite subject, and our favourite topic for debate, and we all brought something different to the discussions.

  Margie was the activist. Her parents were somewhere in Africa, building schools and digging wells and trying to change the system that locked people into poverty. Your chocolate and bananas and tea had better be Fairtrade when Margie was around. She could always see another side to every debate, and she was quick to notice if a group of people had been excluded from the historical account. Her feminist critiques of Dr Richards’ lessons were legendary. I always learnt something new when I studied with Margie.

  Dan put his faith in the government. He was convinced that they had our best interests at the top of their priority list. He may have enjoyed finding places to hide from teachers and authority figures, but he trusted that the people running the country, and the world, were acting fairly and justly. He could always find an explanation for something the government had done, even when Margie and I were shouting at him, and willing him to see the injustice.

  I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know that learning could be like this, and that people could get so involved and so invested in the world. I loved debating with Margie and Dan, and I loved that we could say whatever we wanted, and still be friends at the end of it. Homework had always been something I’d done in snatched minutes between looking after Mum, cooking dinner, and making sure I had a clean uniform to wear. That homework could be this important, and this interesting, was new to me, and I loved it.

  Artist

  We’re back in the dining room for the briefing. Jake, Amy, Saunders, Dan, and me round a table in the corner of the room. There’s a pile of questionnaires and answer sheets in the middle of the table, and a scattering of pens and pencils. We’re waiting for the usual talk from one of the Senior Recruits, and maybe map and compass training, or some role-playing to get us used to dealing with the people we’re supposed to protect.

  Instead, Ketty walks into the room and switches on the TV. She uses the touchscreen to load a video for us to watch, and turns back to us to introduce this afternoon’s activity. The room falls silent immediately.

  “Today the government has decided to educate you all about the various weapons that you’ll see in use when you’re on patrol. Some, you might get to handle. Others, they want you to know that you must not touch. Those toys are not yours. Those are for the real soldiers. But don’t worry, tiny fighters – you get some toys of your own.”

  I stare at the table, my anger rising. Ketty’s doing it again – talking to us as if we don’t matter. As if we’re disposable.

  “After the informative video, you’ll have five minutes to complete the questionnaires in front of you. Don’t screw this up. Identify the weapons, and identify whether they are for you to use, or for the grown-ups. This isn’t rocket science, recruits, but it is important, so pay attention.”

  She sets the video running, turns out the lights, and sits down in a chair at the end of the table by the door. The recruits sitting with her sit up straight and angle themselves towards the screen, thinly disguised fear on their faces.

  Dan and I exchange a glance across the table. This is new. We haven’t been given detailed information like this before – we’re usually learning how to calm a crowd, or help a frightened civilian, or contain a threatening interaction.

  The video runs through the range of government-issued weapons and equipment. Our armour is shown, and our guns (safe for us to handle), along with black armour and riot shields (soldiers only). There’s a rundown of the guns we don’t get to use – everything from a small handgun to a machine gun mounted on the back of a truck. There are drones, and ground-based population-control devices, including the apocalyptically named ‘City Killer’ and the scurrying, spider-like ‘Traffic Stopper’. There are see-through bullet-proof barriers (we get to put those in position and stand behind them), and crowd-control pepper sprays (we’ll be issued those if we need them). The video runs through scenarios that we’re expected to handle ourselves, and the tipping points where we’re supposed to call in support from the army. Crowds turning violent, groups of terrorists staging multiple attacks, widespread collapse of infrastructure.

  I glance round the table. This is more useful than I was expecting. There’s more information about our job here than we’ve ever been given before. Next to me, Amy is staring, white-faced at the screen. Dan and Jake look worried, concentrating on the details of the images and the narration. And Saunders … Saunders has a pencil in his hand, and on the back of one of the questionnaires, he’s sketching. His attention is on his drawing, and on Amy.

  She doesn’t know she’s being stared at. She hasn’t noticed his gaze. She’s giving all her attention to the TV screen. Saunders isn’t listening to the video, and he’s certainly not watching. My stomach sinks. He can’t afford any more trouble today. Carefully, I reach out with my foot under the table and aim a gentle kick at his knee.

  The table rocks, and Saunders looks up in surprise. I glare at him, and tip my head towards the screen. He looks at me, eyes wide, shaken out of his artistic concentration. I tip my head again, and he looks past me to the screen, realising what he’s missing. Slowly, he puts the pencil down, picks up the sketch and slides it under the table, into a pocket, out of sight. He gives me a guilty look, and turns to watch the video, too late to pass the test. I turn back to the screen, wondering what I’ve missed.

  Lucky for both of us, there’s a very brief rundown to remind us about all the equipment at the end of the video. It might not be enough to give him a perfect score, but at least he’s watching.

  The video ends. Ketty stands up, and sends the recruit next to her to switch the lights back on. There’s a murmur of discomfort as the bright strip lights replace the glow of the TV screen, and a scraping of chairs as people shift back to their tables.

  “Grab a questionnaire. Grab an answer sheet. Grab a pen. Show me that you can watch a short video without falling asleep. No conferring. Five minutes. Go!”

  We all reach for the question and answer sheets. Pens in hand, we work our way through the multiple-choice questions, confirming that we have understood what we have seen. I know all the answers, but I’m aware that five minutes isn’t long to run through everything in the video. I check the clock on the wall. My heart is racing as I scan through the questions for anything I’ve missed.

  Ketty is right. These are easy questions for anyone who’s been paying attention. My hand aches from gripping the pen, but after four minutes, I’ve completed the task. I glance at Saunders, whose hand is hovering above the final few answers, his face a mask of panic. Dan drops his pen on the table and sits back in his chair. Jake picks up his sheet and reviews his answers.

  Ketty is pacing the room behind me. I want to turn my head and check where she is, but I don’t want to attract her attention. Carefully, I stretch out my foot under the ta
ble and nudge Dan’s leg. He looks down, under the table, and then at me, puzzled. I meet his gaze, then look across at Saunders. Dan turns, and sees what I’m seeing.

  Half a minute to go. Dan looks up, past my shoulder to see where Ketty is standing. He nudges Saunders, and starts to gesture under the table. Saunders stares at him, then looks down, and understands. He follows Dan’s directions – thumbs up, thumbs down, counting on his fingers – until most of his answers are complete. Amy places her pen on the table as Ketty calls the end of the test. Saunders holds his in both hands, elbows on the table, trying to hide his shaking fingers. Dan gives him a final thumbs up, then gathers the answer sheets and lays them in a pile at the end of the table.

  I realise that I’ve been holding my breath.

  Jackson replaces Ketty at the front of the room, as Ketty collects the answer sheets and takes them away for checking.

  “Recruits! We’re going to revise our strategies for reassuring members of the public. Pair up!”

  Our chairs shriek against the floor as we all stand up. Saunders points at Amy, who nods. I’m about to pair up with Dan, when I realise that Jake is looking lost, watching Amy as she walks round the table to stand with Saunders. I wave at Dan, and point at Jake as I move down the table. Dan nods, and looks for a partner at the neighbouring table, while I sit down next to Jake.